


For The Throne

by FireAndBlood121



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireAndBlood121/pseuds/FireAndBlood121
Summary: A rewrite novel style of Season 8 and beyond. Starting after the conclusion of Season 7.Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen venture North to face the greatest foe mankind has ever battled. They must not forget the political quicksand that encompasses Danys assent to the Iron Throne with betrayal, loss and startling revelations all around them as they prepare to not only fight the Night King and his dead army, but Cersie Lannister and her vicious ways. Heavily J/D focused with tons of plot and character growth/conclusion.First posted fic.





	For The Throne

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Fanfic. It is going to be very long but bear with me, you're in for a real ride.

DAENERYS-  
Home. Though she had never truly had one, she knew this was how it felt to be there. Safe, warm and happy. All these things she found in a place she did not expect, in the arms of Jon Snow, the King In The North. Or was he a warden now? She pondered, since he bent the knee to her after she sat beside him, day in and day out until he woke from that dreaded expedition beyond the wall that claimed the life of her son.  
Viserion. Her sweetest boy. His cream and gold scales always glimmered with such brilliance and his temperament the mildest of the 3 brothers. Poor sweet Viserion. Named after a brother so cruel, that when he died, Daenerys not only felt nothing, she felt relief. But her dragon was the opposite of cruel. He had flown with her and his brothers to save a small band of men who did not recognize her as queen and yet they went to save them anyway.  
She shook her head as the tears begun to overflow onto her cheeks, the image of that ice javelin piercing his golden scales as blood and flames burst out like fast rapids hitting stone in a river. His scream not only of pain but of fear. A dragon knows no natural enemies but she lead them right to death....  
No, she thought, she lead them to destiny, to save man kind from the Night King and his army of the dead which would destroy all those she swore to protect as Queen. She cleared her throat of the sob that had been building, and with it cleared her mind of that terrible day. Turning over, she couldn't help but curl the corners of her lips into a soft smile. Such a rugged, fierce and brooding man this Jon Snow was. He was also soft, kind, patient and true. The most honest man she ever met she thought to herself with disbelief. The son of the man who served the usurper Robert Baratheon, a man who ordered assassins to kill her when she was but a babe in her crib. There must be more to that story her brother Viserys told her of the Usurper and his 'Northern dog'. Some other truth that would strengthen the notion of Jon Snow being so much like his “honorable father”, as Tyrion had put it. 

Jon yawned and stretched as the sunlight poured its way in through the small window of the ship. His dark molten eyes met her violet ones and they both smiled, albeit a bit shyly at one another. How easily they forget how truly young they are, despite all they have been through she thought.

“Your grace.” Jon said with his rough Northern accent.  
“Good morning, Jon Snow.” she replied, blinking the last bit of slumber away.  
“I should go...before someone sees me leave your quarters....I do not wish to dishonor you, my queen.”  
Oh you honorable fool, Daenerys though as her eyebrows pulled together and she let out a huff of air from her smile.  
“How noble of you my Lord, but as Queen, I will enjoy whomevers company I desire without condemnation from my subjects.” She replied with a smirk.  
Jon Snow grimaced.  
“Do you mean to take the company of others then?” He said.  
Daenerys cocked her head slightly and parted her lips to reply  
“My apologies, I shouldn't have said that..tis not my business.” He hurried before she could speak.  
He threw the blanket from him and swung his legs off to the side of his bed, reaching for his trousers.  
Dany sat up behind him and touched his shoulder, pulling him to face her.  
“Do you want it to be your business?” She asked, searching his face, finally resting on his lips as he cast his eyes down, avoiding her gaze.  
“I...this was a mistake...I shouldn't have done this, its not my place, forgive me.” He sputtered out.  
Daenerys heart sank to the pit of her stomach. He does not think he is worthy, she thought.   
“Jon, there has never been a dragon that has been forced to do anything, and I am a dragon. I wanted this, I want you. Not just to warm my bed but...” She paused, searching his face for the rejection she feared was to come. She inhaled slowly through her nose before she started again, closing her eyes this time so she didn't lose courage if his expression gave away something she could not endure.   
“I have come to love your company, to love you, for the man you are, not for your birth right or title. Do you understand? Do you feel the same? If you don't, then let this be the end of this but if you do, say so here and now lest my heart break.” She replied, exposing herself as a woman, and not just a queen.   
Jon looked up then, locking eyes with her, he placed his hands around her face and kissed her then, softly at first and then with an almost predatory need to claim her as his own.   
“You are the most amazing woman in the world Daenerys Targaryen. Not because of your dragons or your armies, because of your heart. I would have you be mine, if you'll have me.” he said in baited breath.   
Daenerys exhaled, far harder than she anticipated, she must had been holding her breath ,waiting for his answer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a growing hunger she would be more than happy to indulge in.  
“Khaleesi?” a voice said at her door.  
Daenerys sighed as she put her forehead on Jons.  
“Just a moment.” She replied as she stood and wrapped a sheet around her body. Jon swiftly put his trousers and shirt on and stood stoically in the corner as Daenerys shook her head and smiled at him. Such an honorable fool, she thought.  
“Come in, Missandei” she said as she sat back down on the edge of the bed.  
The door opened and her adviser entered, walking towards her with a hair brush in hand, ready to braid her hair for the day. She stopped but for a moment when she noticed Jon standing off to the side of the bed, eyes darting from him to her queen and then suddenly to the floor embarrassed.   
“My apologies, your Grace, my Lord, I did not mean to intrude.” She said sheepishly.  
“No need to apologies, my friend, please come in, my hair is quite the mess.” Daenerys said with a wave of her hand.  
“Good mornin' I, eh, I'm just leaving, I will see you in the hall to break our fast, your Grace.” Jon said as he swiftly and shyly ducked out of the room.  
Missandei looked at Dany with a smirk.   
“I could do worse....” Daenerys said with a smile  
“You could do much, much worse.” Missandei replied as they both laughed. 

 

JON-  
As dawn approached, so did the slightest outline of landfall that would be White Harbor just in his line of sight as he stood looking out on the deck of the boat. He sighed heavily and stared off, getting lost in the smell of the salt water and the sound of birds flying about as they got closer to solid ground.   
The dragons must not be very close, he pondered, as wildlife had a way of scattering when the massive predators where anywhere in the vicinity. But they wouldn't be far. Drogon and Rhaegal, as he had come to learn their names, were unwavering loyal to their mother. Not much unlike his direwolf Ghost was to him. Poor Ghost, Jon thought. He had left him in Winterfell to be safe in case he did not return from meeting this formidable Dragon Queen. His queen. He had spent every night with her on this trip and what nights they were. Not just for the love making, for it seemed they were never truly satiated but for the hours they spent talking, sharing their pasts and their hopes for the future. Each night he fell more in love with the girl behind those many titles. She was after all, just a girl. Despite her power in bringing dragons back into the world. Despite her leading the largest Kahlasar known in the history of the world, freeing slave cities or commanding the ferocious Unsullied. She was but a young woman longing for something she never truly had, to be loved and to belong. Behind her queenly facade she had on most of the time, there was fire dancing in her eyes. The flames both menacing and beautiful, not much unlike her temperament and all together mesmerizing.   
“Ehem” a voice clearing their throat made Jon jump slightly and turned to face the interruption of his usual morning brooding.   
It was Tyrion, who squinted when the sun hit his face and looked away as he spoke.  
“Good morning Lord Snow, it appears we will be docking by early afternoon if the winds are kind, at least Sir Davos says that is the case, and he knows the sea far better than I”  
“Aye, me as well.” Jon replied  
Tyrion walked to the rail of the ship and stared out into the ocean, pausing to think before he spoke.  
“Have you two discussed how you are going to handle this when we are on land?” he asked finally.  
Jon was still half turned away from him,  
“We will go over battle plans when we have a better idea of...”  
“You know that's not what I mean.” Tyrion cut him off, for there was no need to play chaste now.  
Jon inhaled sharply and turned to face the ocean with the Queens Hand, still not looking at one another.  
“I don't know what is best. The queen says we should not hide it, that we should show we are strongly allied but...”  
“But you fear the Northern Lords will believe she bewitched you with her beauty to get you to bend the knee and therefore abandon their support in this war with the dead.”  
“Yes.” He answered simply. No matter how he looked at it, he knew there would be challenges in getting the North to not only accept Daenerys as a queen but even an ally. For the North always remembers and they surely remembered the last time a Targaryen reigned, and what happened to the Northmen that were in his presence.   
“Well, I may not be your hand but I am the Queens and I hope you will take my advice as a friend.” Tyrion said as he turned to lean his back on the rail so he could face Jon.  
Jon nodded, waiting to be told to remember his place, as a bastard, as a man who had no business with the most powerful ruler Westeros would ever see since Aegon The Conqueror.  
“Get her to Winterfell safely, do not give more reason for a stray crossbow bolt to hit our queen and bide your time while tensions are high. When this battle is over and it is time to march south to help her claim the Iron Throne, then you and the queen can scream it from the top of the Red Keep for all I care, but until then, tuck those feelings away before it gets you both killed and all is lost.”

Daenerys-  
The air was sharp here. Every inhale hurt her lungs and each time she blinked she could see the tiny flicks of ice fall from her eyelashes. What a terrible place to call home she mused as she wrapped her arms around herself, waiting patiently on the dock as the crew secured her ship. She could see the welcoming party, if one could call it that. A short round man with a worried scowl in the center of it all and on either side was a small collection of soldiers and behind them all, a gathering of common folk, eager to get a glimpse of this moonlight haired foreign Queen and her dragons.   
Daenerys had sent her sons high into the clouds to avoid being seen and to find a suitable resting spot after their flight, so the people would have to wait to see a mythical beast another day.  
As the ramp lowered, Jon came up beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back. She did not turn to face him as she looked forward, shoulders pulled back and gaze as stately as ever. Now was not the time to show her humanity but rather her prowess as the queen.   
“Let us be patient with our true state of allegiance my Queen, lest stir unneeded controversy with stubborn Northmen. We will win them your support the hard way but the right way.” He said quietly.   
Daenerys nodded but said nothing, she was worried. These people in the North....would they hate her? Worse, what would Jons family think of her? She swallowed hard. It could not be a concern. She was their rightful Queen and they were her subjects. All other pleasantries were but a bonus.  
“Welcome to my homeland, my queen.” Jon said as he walked forward to shake Lord Manderlys hand.  
“The King in the North!” The fat man proclaimed, grasping Jons hand with both of his and grinning, shaking it up and down abruptly.  
“I take it the sea was kind for your journey?” he asked.  
“Aye, we had fair weather my Lord. May I introduce our Queen, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen”   
The queen stepped forward, extending her hand to the robust Lord with a smile. He took it readily with both hands cupping her small one in between as he did with Jon.  
“Welcome to White Harbor, your Grace,”  
“It is my honor to meet you My Lord, thank you for accommodating such a large guest party, your a most gracious host and the Crown shall not forget your dedication and service.” She said with the sweetest bell in her voice.   
The Lord gave a slight turn up of his lips, lifting his white mustache but the smile didn't stay when the Queens hand appeared at her side, for a Northman never forgets, especially a Lannister.  
“Lord Manderly,” Tyrion began  
“Thank you for your accommodations. Where are those to be and I shall direct the men.” He said glancing around.  
“Ah yes, my men here will show you to your camping grounds, right there by the old tower there, provisions have been put out for fires and food is in the crates lined along the outside just there.” The Lord said pointing off in the distance to a flat stretch at the bottom of a hill. At the top of the hill was a large albeit crumbling bell tower, stained on one side from the salt water of the sea spritzing upon it for ages.   
“Ehh...You don't mean to put your Queen out in the wilderness in the cold do you my Lord? She is the blood of the Dragon but I don't think those frozen accommodations are adequate for...” Tyrion questioned,  
“Of course not! What kind of a fool do you take me for? Come, come your Grace, we have rooms set up for you and your immediate party and King Jon and his, of course of course.” The old man sputtered as he waved them on, turning to lead them towards his Keep.  
“Pardon, but do you mean to keep my armies half a mile away in the cold and myself and my advisers separate from them? I mean no offense My Lord but as you might imagine, I must be rather coy in new territory.” Daenerys spoke without moving. Lord Manderly stopped, his voice raising a higher pitch,  
“My queen, I would never leave you unprotected or unattended, we pride ourselves on our hospitality and what kind of a host would I be if my guests let alone the Queen was uncomfortable or unsafe? Nay, I will provide 6 of my own personal guard to stand watch at all times in your wing of the keep.”  
“Thank you Lord Manderly, that is kind of you.” Jon said as he saw the tension and distrust building within Dany.  
“That is well and good, my thanks.” Daenerys replied as the Lord spun to lead them again  
“However I will be requiring two of my Unsullied to stand at attention at the entrance to my corridor, you understand I'm sure.” she finished.  
And to that, the Lord simply nodded and continued on his way.  
Dany glanced up at Jon who smiled a sympathetic smile. 

Jon-  
The main hall doors swung open with an ominous groan. Inside awaited a small party of nobles, eager to get a glimpse of this Dragon Queen.  
“My Lords, My Ladies, may I announce Queen Daenerys of House Tagaryen and King Jon Snow, return home to the North where he belongs!” Lord Manderly bellowed.  
The Northern Lord and Ladies raised their cups   
“The King in the North!” They said in unison.  
Jon looked at Dany from the corner of his eye, expecting to see a tinge of jealousy but all he saw was a soft smile, one of admiration he believed.  
“Your graces, may I introduce my granddaughters, Wylla and Wynafred.” Lord Manderly said as he took his daughters forward to them.   
“It is a pleasure to meet you, you're both very beautiful.” Daenerys said with a smile.  
“Aint they a sight? The question is, does the King find them beautiful too? What good is an unmarried King ah??” Lord Manderly said with a bellowing laugh and a nudge in Jons side.  
Jon gave a half smile and a glance at his Queen, who had her face plastered in an expression that could only be contrived of as indifferent, yet he knew better and he knew the rage that must have been burning within her, for a Dragon does not share what is theirs, and Daenerys had claimed him as her own.  
“Aye, I'm sure any North man alive would be proud to call either his wife, but now is not the time for weddings, The Dead are coming.” Jon stated dryly, looking sideways to catch Daenerys stoic gaze that gave nothing away to unsuspecting Manderlys. But he knew the fire building up inside his dragon queen, her eyes revealing to him much more than what any one else could perceive.   
“Yes, one must be rather focused in the coming days leading up to and during this war, I do so agree.” Tyrion said, giving a rather pointed look at Jon as he caught his gaze lingering for a moment to long. 

 

Sir Davos appeared in the nick of time to save Jon and Daenerys from such an awkward conversation.  
“The Dothraki are a days ride away, they will be here by nightfall on the morrow. The Unsullied have made camp and Lord Manderlys men have unloaded and delivered your graces belongings to your rooms, respectively.” 

“Don't you have dragons?” a little girl asked from the crowd

Daenerys turned and walked to her, crouching down so she was at her level.

“I do, I have two of them. I had three but...”  
“Did it die?” the girl asked, clutching her doll but peering into Daenerys violet eyes with her own deep brown ones, eager for information.  
“He did.” Dany replied, her throat tightening a bit at the memory.  
“How? How could a dragon die? They are the strongest and biggest and meanest in the whole world!” The girl proclaimed.  
“A very bad King did it, but we are here to stop him before he hurts anyone else, my dragons are here to fight for us too.”   
“What are their names?”   
“Drogon is the big black one, he is ferocious and brave. Rhaegal is the green one, he is smart and fast. And Viserion....Viserion is the one that died. He was the most beautiful color of gold and cream, he was the sweetest.” Dany said as she pointed to each dragon head on her shoulder. The little girl beamed with delight and wonder.   
“Pardon, Your Grace...thats enough dear, come come, time for supper.” the girls mother said as she grasped her hand and pulled her away.  
Daenerys frowned slightly. Though her dragons were very much her children, the thought that she would never produce an heir, a babe of her own to hold, made her heart heavy.

 

Her chambers were comfortable enough, but the bite of the cold, despite fires roaring in every room, was not something she was used to. The food was not something she was acclimated to yet either. The North with their thick stews and thick baked goods made Daenerys feel slouchy and slightly sick. Though the food tasted good, warm and it stuck to your belly in the cold atmosphere, it stayed feeling warm and sticky in her belly long after her meals and made her want to rest more than she should and often times even vomit. Missandei as usual was her saving grace. While Jon was off assuring loyalties among the Northerners at White Harbor, Daenerys and Missandei were often out walking amongst their own armies, checking in and encouraging morale as the south east men were not thrilled with the snow and cold.   
A few days had passed and Daenerys still was struggling to not feel ill every day let alone stay awake for the entirety of the day. The fourth morning in White Harbor came and as they all sat at the table, Daenerys, Tyrion, Jorah, Missandai and Varys at one and Jon and his closest men at another across from them to break their fast before the travel party arrived the next day to escort them to Winterfell, Dany started to feel queasy.   
Her hand fluttered lightly to her mouth as if it would help quell her nausea. Missandei immediately turned to her queen.  
“Are you alright your Grace? Shall we retire to your chambers?” She asked, leaning into her queen so she wouldn't have to speak loudly and alert the others in the hall. It was too late, as Jon, who always kept his eyes checking on his Queen, noticed the paleness and discomfort on Daenerys face.   
He stood immediately, without thinking and without care of the abrupt screech of the chair on the floor and the eyes in the hall turning their attention to the noise and thus to him, and strode to her table, kneeling down so he was level with her face from across the table. Daenerys felt another wave of nausea and heat pool across her face and stood abruptly, waving Missandai off to stay where she was as she hurriedly left the hall, two of her Unsullied in pursuit after her.   
“Is she alright?? I'll call for a maester.” Jon said watching her leave the room and standing to follow, but Missandai reached forward, touching his forearm lightly to stop him.   
“Her grace says the Northern food does not settle well with her, that is all it is My Lord.” Missandai answered with a meek smile.  
“Has she been feeling ill? We should have her examined immediately, Gods know what kind of fool would try to poison the Queen but it is not outside the realm of possibility, especially now.” Tyrion interjected.  
“I should go check on her.” Jorah said standing.   
“I believe she would prefer if she could rest quietly Ser Jorah” Missandai replied, standing herself,  
“I will go and tend to our Queen.” she said as she bowed out, leaving the hall.  
Jon stood there for a moment, scowling, if anyone was trying to hurt Daenerys, he would kill them himself. But what bothered him greatly as well is that she had not told him she wasn't feeling herself. She didn't even want him to come check on her, as Missandai had made obvious. He grimaced. He had been neglecting her. Yes he knew he couldn't show his affections for her in public but he had decided not to visit her chambers at night either for fear that some prying eyes would see. Had he checked on her, he would have known.   
His brooding was interrupted but the sound of a familiar voice.  
“You have not changed a bit, still as melancholy as ever.”  
Arya.  
He spun around and took in a sharp breath before running to her across the great hall, embracing her as she leaped into his arms, grinning ear to ear.  
“By the Gods! Look at you! You're beautiful, so grown! And you still have Needle!” He said as he held her at arms length, looking at her up and down, examining just how much his little sister had indeed changed.  
“Aye, and I've not forgotten which end to poke people with.” She said with a glint in her eye.  
“What are you doing here?? I expected to meet you in Winterfell with Bran”  
“I couldn't wait...I get restless staying in one place for too long....and Bran...he is different you know.”  
“Sansas last letter said as much. We all have changed. We all have had to, to survive” Jon said, remembering all the loss the Starks have endured.  
“I hear you brought a real live silver haired Targaryen with you, and her dragons too....”  
Jon chuckled, he remembered how his sister loved the stories of the Targaryens and their dragons and all the battles they fought with them.  
“Aye, I did. The Queen is going to help us win the battle against the dead. She brought her armies with her as well.”   
“And where is this Dragon Queen? I have not seen any dragons flying about and I've been traveling the road for days to get here....” Arya asked doubtfully.  
Jon huffed.  
“You'll see them....when the Queen is ready for them to be seen. As for Daenerys, she isn't feeling well, she retired to her chambers early.”  
“Daenerys huh....” Arya smirked.  
“She is good, Arya, I hope you give her a chance, even if she is not of the North.”  
“My most trusted allies have been from Essos and the south, I care not where she is from, but what her true motives are.”

 

ARYA  
Later that evening, Arya found herself walking through the rows of tents that made up the living quarters of this Daenerys Targaryens armies. She was especially fascinated with the pristine and structured style of the Unsullied. Even when not in battle, they seemed to follow strict outlines moment by moment, even if self set. The Dothraki were fierce looking but she could see they were simply people, like her, that lived by a different code. She didn't see them as savages like people claimed, they at least stabbed people in the front, unlike in the back like the people of Westeros, she thought.

She stopped suddenly when she caught eye of an all too familiar frame. Large, scarred and tearing a freshly fire roasted chicken carcass apart with his bare hands. The Hound.  
“I heard you might be here, serving the Queen.” She said from behind him.  
He stopped chewing and sat still for a moment, before letting his shoulders slump and a big sigh expel from him. Tossing the chicken leg down into a bucket he stood and turned. His eyes widened slightly at how Arya had changed. No longer a small yet spunky girl. She stood there with her arms clasped behind her back, peering up at him with the smallest of one sided grins.  
“I am not serving no fucking Queen. I just don't want to turn into one of those...things...and if we don't stop them, that's what we all will be.” He replied, unmoving.  
“Where did you go? After you left me to die?” He asked, with a growl.  
“After I robbed you, and left you to die, I went to Bravos.”   
The Hound gave a single but audible laugh.  
“To learn more of that fancy sword dancing shite?”  
“Something like that.” Arya smiled now, unsheathing Needle. “Care to see how my swordsmanship has improved?”  
“You can't spar me with that little one, it'll split in two, even if I go easy on you. “ The Hound said, scrunching his eyebrows mockingly.   
“I think you've been eating too many chickens, you're starting to turn into one.”  
The Hound roared with laughter.  
“As much of a pain in my ass as ever, alright then.” he went to a tree stump and retrieved his sword. Arya stood with her sword neatly tucked up against her side. The Hound walked around her, once, twice, taking full measure of his old hostage...or was it his charge? He never was able to figure out exactly what she was to him, especially after she stayed when her family was murdered. 

The third go around he swung his sword high above his head and came down in a cleaving fashion, Arya dodged effortlessly. He slashed right to left, she jumped back just enough to make a thud.  
He smiled, she smiled in return.   
“Still dancing around the fight I see. Stand and face me!” He grunted as he tried yet again to slash his way at her only to find his blade came up missing of its target.  
“What difference does it make which way I win? I can make this quick though, if you prefer” Arya said, speeding up her evading as he swung again and again.  
Arya dodged, left, right, left, right, and finally struck forward with her Needle, pinning it right up against his throat.  
The Hound stood straight, backing away from her swords point.  
“You're like a damn snake, striking like that. I see why you survived all this time. Who taught you how to fight like this?”  
“No one.” she replied, sheathing her sword and spinning on her heal, leaving The Hound to catch his breath and ponder.


End file.
